"Is this what you like?" His finger found her clit, teasing her with light, feathery strokes that nearly drove her out of her mind. "Or do you want it like this?" he demanded as he braced his elbows on either side of her face and pushed himself so high and deep that she felt like he'd split her in two.
Maggie's mind swirled and dipped in dizzying confusion. How could this be the same man? It was like Vane's gorgeous exterior, all polished beauty and controlled authority, was only a mask he wore. This man, the one who gripped her hips and pulled her higher until she was braced on her shoulders, and her toes barely grazed the sand, was the one that she'd been drawn to all along. A wild, passionate animal who looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.
"Slow," she groaned. Her fingers opened and closed against his skin as she chased the white- hot ecstasy that built in her core.
Vane lifted her leg and slung it over his shoulder. She was wide open to him, exposed in every way and completely at his mercy. He slowed his rhythm, each punishing thrust going impossibly deep. "Shit, Maggie."
It was that barely controlled ripple that undid her. Feeling him hold back made her lose control. She dug her heels in the sand and lifted her hips to meet him, and in the next breath, her whole body went taut. "Vane!" she cried as the orgasm took her. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them wide, convinced she was falling upward into the stars. Vane roared above her, meeting her with everything he had as he cried out her name in a voice loud enough to reach heaven itself.
9
Vane was still not sure it had actually happened. It had felt like something out of a dream—out there on the sand with Maggie gasping underneath him. When she'd cried out his name as they came together, he was sure he was about to wake up.
But instead she'd kissed him and then they'd laughed about how sand had gotten into places it never should go.
And now, days later, he only had to brush the back of Maggie's neck and whisper, “You've got some sand there,” to make her blush prettily and give him that smile he wasn't sure he deserved.
This was too good. This house had always been his home, but it felt even more so with Maggie’s and Annabelle's laughter ringing through it.
He pulled on his T-shirt and smiled as the happy sounds drifted up from the kitchen. It was the weekend, which meant he could actually hear them. No renovation din to cover Annabelle's indignant shriek. He grinned again, wondering what Maggie had said to make her squeal like that.
He hurried downstairs to find out.
“Morning, ladies,” he said, doffing an imaginary top hat and executing his most polished bow. “You're both looking lovely today.”
“Uncle Vane!” Annabelle rolled her eyes heavenward. “You're so corny.”
“He's polite,” Maggie corrected, shooting him that gorgeous smile. “Nothing wrong with being polite.”
“Thank you, Miss Stewart. I'm glad an educator of your caliber recognizes that fact.”
“What does caliber mean?” Annabelle asked as he freshened Maggie's coffee before pouring his own. “What are we talking about?”
“You don't know what caliber means?” he asked, pretending to be scandalized. “I'll have to have words with your teacher.” He dropped his voice as he glanced at Maggie over the rim of his cup. “Maybe later tonight.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. He laughed and reached for a bowl in the cupboard, deliberately pressing against her as he did. And to his delight, she didn't move out of the way.
“Since we're all off today,” he said after pouring himself a bowl of cereal, “I was thinking the three of us could spend the day at the beach. It's going to be a hot one, and swimming would feel nice.”
Annabelle paused mid-chew. Swallowing hard she smiled at Vane. “I can't go in past my knees,” she admitted. “I don't know how to swim.”
Vane froze. “You're kidding.” He could feel Maggie's shocked eyes on him. Teasing Annabelle for not knowing a big word was one thing. How had he missed that she couldn't swim? Would Maggie think he should have known this? Hell, she was right, he should have. “Never had a swimming lesson?”
“I did. But I was scared.” Annabelle shrugged. “The instructor was this scary loud guy. When I told Daddy I didn't want to go anymore, he got really mad and went to the pool and yelled at him for being a 'power-tripping fuckwit.'“
“Annabelle!” Maggie chastised.
“I'm just saying what Daddy said! I'm not swearing!” Annabelle protested innocently. “Anyway, then Daddy got sick and I never went back to the pool after that.”
Maggie's hand on his shoulder helped steady him. “I get that,” Vane said.
“How about we start those lessons back up again then?” Maggie asked. She tightened her fingers, squeezing Vane's shoulder.
Once again, he felt like he was dreaming.
“Okay,” Annabelle agreed, suddenly shy.
“Good. Finish up your breakfast, and we'll get started.”
Vane had always done his best with a specific goal in mind. Teaching Annabelle to feel confident in the water was an excellent goal.
And it had the side benefit of seeing Maggie in her swimsuit. She wore a high-waisted, vintage-style bikini, with a sweet little bow nestled between her breasts, which made Vane's throat go dry every time he looked at it. It was both perfectly innocent with its girlishness, and also thoroughly sexy with its promise of being one tug away from letting her breasts spill free. Carefree and unconsciously sexy. It was so quintessentially Maggie.
“She's doing so well!” Maggie laughed when Annabelle was confortable submerging herself past the waist.
“I think it's time we tried blowing some bubbles, what do you think? Can you put your face in the water?”
“What? How?” Annabelle allowed Vane to guide her until her chin was submerged, but the second her mouth touched the water, she fought him, flailing backwards and kicking out defensively.
“Oh!” Maggie cried as a sheet of water soaked her from head to toe.
Annabelle hopped back up, mortified. “Sorry, Miss Stewart!”
Maggie wiped her face and laughed. “I think I'm going to step out of the splash zone. Is that okay?” She looked at Vane.
He felt instantly guilty. Here he'd declared this their day off and yet Maggie was still on the clock. She wasn't doing this out of the goodness of her heart; she was his nanny, his employee. And he hadn't given her an actual day off in way too long. “Of course. Go relax. We're doing fine.”
“My friend texted me this morning. Mind if I see what's up?”
Vane realized he'd never once seen her use her phone. Not around Annabelle and certainly never around him. “Of course. Go right ahead.”
She smiled her thanks and pulled her phone from her bag.
“Look, Uncle Vane! I did it!” Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut and plunged her face into the water, sending up an eruption of bubbles.
“You did! Great job!” He gave her a high-five and they moved on to floating on her back. With Annabelle suspended safely in his arms, he allowed himself another quick glance at the beach.
Maggie paced the edge of the surf, idling turning in circles and dipping her toes in the water with her phone pressed against her ear. Vane couldn't see her face from this far away, but the lines of her body troubled him. She curved her body like she was attempting to comfort an invisible person.
“I'm going to blow bubbles again,” Annabelle announced once he'd stood her up again. “Are you watching?”
“I am totally watching.”
Annabelle plunged her face into the water again, but she'd mistimed her breath. She inhaled just as her nose went in. “Augh!' she cried as she emerged, sputtering.
Annabelle looked so offended that the ocean would dare mistreat her this way that Vane had to hide his amusement behind his hand. “That must burn pretty bad, huh?”
“Ugh, it tastes like butt. I'm done.” Annabelle marched back up to the beach and wrapped herself in her towel with a huff. Sh
e plopped down on the blanket, looking miserable.
“Hey, don't give up. We can take a break if you want, but you're doing really well. If you keep at it, I bet you'll be swimming by the end of this week.”
Annabelle gave him a baleful side-eye. “Can I build a drip castle? I don't want to swim.”
“A drip castle? I don't know what that is.” He knelt in the sand. “It's your turn to teach me something.”
Annabelle was deep into her explanation of sand-to-water ratios for proper drip consistency when Maggie returned. She tucked her phone back into her bag and then stared off into the distance, looking troubled.
“Everything okay?” Vane asked, even though it clearly wasn't.
The corner of Maggie's mouth kicked up in a guilty smile. “My best friend makes some...” She eyed Annabelle and chose her words carefully. “She has always had a problem with…”
Vane picked up her meaning immediately. “Doing her taxes?” he supplied.
Maggie's eyes glinted. “Uh, yeah.” She plopped down on the blanket. “She's been seeing her, uh, accountant for a while now, but she can't get him to—”
“Sign a contract?”
Maggie looked even more amused. “How did you know?”
“I've met a few accountants like that.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Annabelle wanted to know.
“Boring grown-up stuff,” Vane answered quickly. He grinned at Maggie. “Does she want him to sign a contract?”
“She thinks she doesn't. She always said she, uh, likes to keep her options open. You know. In case someone”—she eyed Annabelle again—”who is better at doing her taxes comes along. But this accountant is the best one for her, uh, tax bracket.”
“Are you sure? I mean, if he won't sign a contract, it doesn't sound like he values her as a client.”
“This is so boring,” Annabelle complained.
“Most grown-up things are,” Maggie said. Vane hid his laugh again.
“That's what I was trying to tell her. She deserves to have an accountant who will take care of all of her, uh, write-offs. Not just the fun business expenses.”
“She doesn't owe him her business just because she's been his client for, how long?”
“Two years.” Maggie smiled ruefully. “Cumulatively. Over the span of the last five years.”
“If I were her, I would let my accountant know that a business relationship is a two-way street. And communication is key. Sometimes accountants are oblivious to their clients' needs. They need to have expectations laid out clearly. If they're left to guess, they might not even realize they're not fulfilling their contractual obligations.”
“Seriously. So boring,” Annabelle sighed with an epic eyeroll.
Maggie laughed. “Okay, kiddo, we're done.” She gave Vane a look of such warmth that he felt like he needed to jump back into the water. “Thanks for the advice. You, uh, know a lot about accounting.”
He grinned back. “I hope so.”
He didn't.
But the longer he spent with Maggie, the more he wanted to.
10
Their lives had settled into a pattern. Vane worked during the day while Maggie and Annabelle played together, then the three of them came together for dinner. On nice nights, they'd go for a walk along the beach. On rainy nights they'd see what board games they could unearth from the store they'd found in the attic. So far they'd had a bitter game of Monopoly and a hilarious game of Pictionary. None of them could decipher the rules of Risk, so they made up their own.
Vane had forgotten how much fun games could be. They let him see a side of Maggie, the kind, generous side that deliberately lost games rather than make anyone feel bad, that made him even more tender towards her than before. And they let him get to know Annabelle better, too. She had Colby's competitive streak, a discovery that had made him ache the night she won Monopoly by ruthlessly jacking up rents. But she was empathetic in a way Colby hadn't been. She could read Vane's face, and sometimes dropped amazingly perceptive insights that made his heart stop. It was both amazing and heartbreaking to realize that he would have never had the privilege of getting to know her so well if Colby hadn't died so young. If her father were still around, Vane would most likely only see her at various holidays. He would only know her as a passing blur who gave him grudging hugs hello. The idea of loving her in a hands-off way, rather than in the fierce, deep way he'd grown to love her now, made him so sad. The idea that she had to lose so much for him to gain her was so sad. But he was also so very grateful.
Maybe that was what people meant when they said something was bittersweet.
The routine seemed to be helping Annabelle, as well. She hadn't had a night terror in a full week. But just to be certain, Vane always brought the baby monitor with him whenever he and Maggie went out to the beach at night.
“Right here, listen,” he said. He took one step forward in the sand, and the hiss of the monitor cut out.
“So this is the limit of its range over here,” Maggie laughed. “We were able to get halfway around the south side of the island last night, but the northern side is a dead zone?”
“Seems that way.” He stepped back and the monitor hissed back on. He grinned and opened his arms. “Come here.”
She took a step forward, and that was all the invitation he needed. With a groan, Vane crushed her to his chest and slammed his mouth against hers. All day long he'd been thinking of this. All day long he'd been angling for ways to get close to her body, to bury his face in the soft space where her neck met her shoulder and inhale the sweet scent that always clung to her skin. All day long he'd only been able to catch moments with her, but now she was all his again. His to savor. His to devour.
“Lie down,” he ordered as he leaned her back. She sank into the soft sand. Her loose-fitting dress bunched at her thighs, and for a moment all he wanted to do was savor how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. The soft, silvery light made her gold hair seem to glow from within as it spilled across her shoulders.
But he'd been waiting all day for this, and patience had never been his strong suit. He dropped to his knees and lifted her legs, encouraging her to rest them on his shoulders. “We're miles away from the nearest house,” he told her. She went wide eyed, and he grinned. “What, you think you know what I plan on doing to you?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Tell me.” Hearing Maggie say filthy things had quickly become an obsession. There was something about her perfect combination of innocence and sexiness that drove him mad. “Tell me exactly what you think I'm about to do.” He let his hand wander up the smooth skin of her thigh and watched her face.
She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Based on my experience of the past few nights, you're going to put your mouth on me.”
“And then what will happen?” He stroked higher, toying with the elastic of her panties before hooking his fingers around the waistband and tugging them down.
She gasped. “I think,” she groaned once he'd exposed her silky center to the cool air, “you're probably going to make me come.”
“How many times?” he urged, lazily tracing a line up her center and brushing against her nub as if by accident.
She stiffened immediately.
“You're already wet for me,” he observed. “So go on. Take a guess. How many times do you think you're going to come tonight?”
“Three?” she gasped when he started using his thumb.
“On my face? Sure. Let's go with three this way, and then we'll start over once I'm fucking you.”
“I can't believe,” she gasped, her voice tightening as his fingers moved faster, “there was ever a time I thought you were too buttoned-up. You're an animal.”
“Only for you, gorgeous,” he promised as he shifted her higher and opened her legs wider. “Only for you.”
He buried his face between her thighs. That first slow, lingering stroke of his tongue was all for him. He let her taste fill his
mouth, groaning his appreciation because he knew how much she loved it when he was filthy, too.
“Why do you taste so good?” he demanded, his voice muffled against her silky flesh. “Sweet as candy.”
Her reply was a high, keening cry that told him she was already close. He knew all her cries now, the impatient, kittenish whimpers that urged him to give her more, the harsh, hoarse cries when she fell apart. And these, his favorite. The high, animal noises that almost sounded like a seagull's call when she was seconds away from shattering.
He sealed his mouth against her and gave a gentle suck before sliding his tongue over her swollen nub. She arched right up off the ground with a cry that echoed off the waves, then she collapsed back onto the sand in a boneless heap. Her chest heaved as she stared up at him in wonder.
He grinned. “One,” he counted.
“I might die,” she complained. “You'll be a murderer.”
“No judge on earth would convict me.”
Her cheeky grin was his undoing. “I'm going to have to fight back.” She grabbed his waistband and before he could think, she'd plunged her hand inside and gripped his length, then smiled even wider. “Ah, a weakness.”
“Weakness? Thanks a lot—that's just what a guy likes to hear.” She tugged gently, and he almost collapsed. “Okay, fair enough,” he said through clenched teeth and tried to hide his triumph. “I yield, I yield.”
“It's self defense,” she laughed, pushing him flat on his back on the sand. She lifted her dress to straddle him.
He saw his opening and pounced. Gripping her full ass, he yanked her forward. She yelped as she lost her balance.
And yelped again when he gripped her thighs.
Maggie on her back in the sand had been bliss. But Maggie like this, straddling his face and riding his tongue like a cowgirl at a rodeo was a thousand times better. He held her in place as she bucked and arched, grinding herself against him. “Holy shit, Vane. Jesus. Vane!”
The Billionaire’s Ward: McClellan Billionaires Book Three Page 7